Job Description
by missmamamoo
Summary: Nathalie absolutely hated when Gabriel dragged her to formal events. He insisted she attend, just not in her usual suit because it was an eyesore. He had asked her to wear an Agreste evening gown, but she politely informed him that being a model wasn't in her job description. They had finally reached a compromise: she could wear what she owned except he had to agree.


**Based off of something I remember reading a super long time ago and I thought recently, you know I could totally see Gabriel being an ass and micromanaging Nathalie for some posh event. People like him seem like perfectionists.**

 **Anyway, here ya go~ I own nothing but Nathalie's insecurities.**

* * *

"Do you approve?"

Gabriel briefly glanced up from his laptop to find Nathalie in a full-length strapless fuchsia evening gown.

"Well?" she added sheepishly. "I know I made a big deal about wearing my own dress but I even bought this one just for the occasion."

"It looks adequate but I would prefer something else," he deadpanned, turning his attention to his work.

Nathalie blinked. "You didn't even look. Clearly, I could continue wearing my suits and it would affect no one."

Gabriel sighed closing his laptop. He pinched the bridge of his nose and stood. He walked towards her analyzing the dress she was wearing.

Nathalie absolutely hated when Gabriel dragged her to formal events. He insisted she attend, just not in her usual suit because it was an eyesore. He had asked her to wear an Agreste evening gown, but she politely informed him that being a model wasn't in her job description. She felt ridiculous having to insist on wearing her own dress. They had finally reached a compromise: she could wear what she owned except he had to agree.

"The dress is formal, so at least it's within the dress code but it doesn't suit you at all. The color washes out your already pale skin and it looks immature." He flicked decorative flowers that were sown into the waist of the dress. "It looks tacky."

Nathalie frowned. "I thought it would look fine. Nothing too flashy but formal enough. I'm not going as your date, Agreste."

"You picked that out yourself?" he asked raising an eyebrow. "It's got flowers on it, Nathalie. You don't even seem like the kind of woman that wears this. We are going to a fashion gala, not prom." He said waving his arms dramatically at the dress. "I mean look at it."

She sighed walking to her room to dig further into her closet. At least he wasn't mad. She had insisted on wearing a dressed she owned rather than one of his designs. She didn't have much of a selection, maybe he would give her some leeway. She took in a deep breath and called out, "Well, this will have to do because I don't have anything else to wear."

Gabriel rolled his eyes, getting up from her couch to join her in her bedroom.

"You have nothing?" he huffed in annoyance.

"I don't do formal occasions. I just work," she huffed signaling at her enormous collection of business clothes. "I wear casual clothes when I want to go grab dinner with a friend. I don't go to formal events outside of work."

She watched his face grimace as he stepped into her closet.

"What about this one?" she asked holding up a purple piece. He held it up inspecting it.

"If my memory serves right, you wore this to our last public function," he intoned.

"What does it matter – Gabriel!" she exclaimed as he dropped the dress and stepped over it.

"No repeats," he quipped.

He turned to face her and frowned. "Did you even bother changing our makeup style?"

Nathalie gabbed like a fish out of water. She should have known he was going to do this.

"It fit in fine with the dress," she said with a tight smile.

He took in a deep breath. "Go, sit down."

"I understand I represent your company but I'm just your assistant. I would wear suits to your ghastly parties and now all of a sudden I'm an eyesore. Does all of this really matter?" she pressed as she walked out of the cramped closet.

"It's not my fault they have extended the dress code to the assistants. If it is any consolation to you, I convinced Marcellus to shove his assistant into a full tux if I must bring you in a dress," he hummed as he sifted through her closet. He pulled out a black dress with a red stripped corset and netted sleeves.

"What is this?" he smirked.

Nathalie did her best to keep her face straight. "It's was a costume get up I was forced into by a colleague. Bets are a nasty thing."

The second dress dropped to the floor. "Leave it."

Nathalie rolled her eyes. The bastard was too dramatic for his own good.

She studied him as continued to tear apart her closet. He was taking a lot of liberties with her lately. She allowed them in moments of weakness but this was crossing a lot of boundaries. She had never taken him home. He had never been to her room. Yet, he seemed acquainted with it all. It felt natural.

"Nathalie," he called out. She perked up.

"You were saying something?"

"I just don't understand why you didn't take the dress when I offered," he said in frustration.

"I don't mind designing you a dress much less letting you use one in my collection. It would have been quick and we wouldn't find ourselves in this predicament. You made such a big deal about not wearing one of my evening gowns."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm sure I have something."

She was not his wife and was barely his lover. She made it clear she did not want to cross those lines with him. She watched his eyebrows furrow at her clothing, inspecting each piece.

He pulled out a plain black cocktail dress. "What about this one?"

She arched her eyebrows. "I thought formal wear had to be floor length."

"It does, but at this rate, I would rather this dress over what you are currently wearing." He wrinkled his nose. "It looks more age appropriate."

"I don't know. I haven't worn that since university," she sighed wearily.

"There is no harm in trying it on," he shot back.

"Honestly, if we keep this up we are going to be late," she called out after him as he walked out of the room to give her privacy.

"I looked fine. I don't see why this is even necessary," she insisted as she wiggled out of the fuchsia dress. She felt ridiculous modeling for him.

"Alright, I'm in it."

The door opened slowly leaving Gabriel standing in the doorway. His gaze felt hot as he scrutinized her. She did her best to focus on his obsession with perfection and not the look he was starting to give her.

"It's not good enough. I got the dress on sale when I was a young university student," she babbled trying to make sense of their situation.

He held his hand up and twirled his finger. She clamped her mouth shut and turned the other direction facing the mirror. "I'm serious, Gabriel. This dress is even faded from how old it is."

She felt goosebumps rise when she felt his breath on her cheeks and the heat of his presence on her back. She watched him smile in the reflection of the mirror in front of her.

"I'm going out on a limb and saying you aren't fond of this dress," he murmured, fingering at the thick velvet straps of the dress.

"I wouldn't say I'm fond of it." She felt the back of the dress rip. "Are you kidding me?!"

"Don't move," he ordered pulling out her kitchen scissors from thin air.

"Gabriel, what are you doing?" she groaned. She knew it wasn't anything he hadn't seen before but she figured the workaholic wouldn't try to tailor her dress.

"Making adjustments," he muttered focusing on his work.

"I said I didn't want to wear your dress," she snapped.

"It's not mine, Nathalie, I am simply making adjustments," he hummed, snipping away at some fabric at the back of her dress. She felt his fingers press into her back, making air get pushed out her lungs.

"I don't this is a good idea," she breathed.

"I won't hurt you," he said looking up to briefly meet her eyes through the mirror. "Now get out of the dress. I need to at least whip stitch the seams."

Nathalie slowly stepped out of the dress standing in a strapless bra and panties. His eyes were on her figure for just a moment and he quickly grabbed the destroyed dress. "Give me a few moments."

She had several fantasies that involved Gabriel Agreste but sitting in her underwear while he tailored a dress in her living room was not one of them.

He walked back into her room and stopped at the sight of her on the bed. He cleared his throat.

"Stand," he ordered. "We will have to stitch it back on you because I removed the zipper."

"This isn't necessary," she said now exasperated.

"To me, it is. Please put this on," he commanded.

The fabric was loosely hung off her chest by its straps. She then felt his fingertips at the smalls of her back. Breathing was the only sounds heard in her room. She allowed him to correct her posture to ease his work. She felt his knuckles brush her back as he held the dress up to stitch. She felt her face flush as the knuckles slowly rose up her spine as he continued to stitch the dress clothes. She felt a finger dip under her bra strap and pull at it slowly.

"We will need to remove this," he said swallowing.

"I don't own pasties," she said keeping her voice leveled. She felt like a deer in headlights.

"Band-Aids will do just fine," he murmured.

"The cabinet in the bathroom. Top shelf," she hastily said.

His hands disappeared for a minute, and he came back with the Band-Aids at hand. He unhooked her bra and turned to give her privacy. She caught his reflection's digging through her jewelry box.

"You have lovely artwork on your back and the dress looked a bit out of date." He pulled out a gold chain, snaking it into some loops he made in the dress. She felt him smooth the fabric that was snug at her waist. "I felt accenting some features would help it out."

She felt her back exposed to the air. The gold chain kissed her back as it held the front of the dress up. The dress looked marvelous but that was not the point.

"I didn't want to wear your dress," she said slowly.

"It's not mine. I simply tailored it to fit you better," he sternly said, eyes glaring at her through the reflection. "I don't see how me tailoring your dress makes it my design. I am more offended that we are wasting time when you could have just worn my dress."

"You know exactly why I didn't agree to your dress, Gabriel. The only woman who ever wore your dresses was your wife," she accused.

"Do the models no longer count? Or the celebrities who ask for custom made designs?" he countered.

"You know what I mean," she shot back turning to face him. Their eyes locked and he spoke up.

"Where is your make-up?"

"This is unnecessary we are going to be late," she said hissed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Your make-up, Nathalie," he huffed. "Your current makeup doesn't match the dress. The colors wash out your face in contrast to the dark dress."

She sighed for what felt the millionth time that night and pointed to her bathroom. She sat on the counter as he snapped open various tubes and tubs he picked from her drawers.

"Close your eyes."

She looked at him warily.

"Nathalie, please. Just close your eyes," he pleaded. "Your eyeshadow needs more depth to match with the evening gown. I promise this won't take long."

She let out a quiet breath and did as she was told. She felt his slacks brush up against her knees as he got close to her, his fresh cologne invading all of her senses. Something cold and pasty press into her eyelids with his fingers. She flinched in surprise.

"I wasn't aware you helped out with the make-up team during runways," she clipped.

"I enjoyed watching them and learning," he murmured as he gently applied the primer. "I occasionally have worn some myself. I am a public figure, an artist and, believe it or not, I loved the eighties."

She felt a brush replace his fingertips, the scent of powder filled her airway. She did her best to resist the urge to cough. He continued to work on her eye carefully. "Will I look like someone from the eighties?"

She heard a compact snap shut. "Did I not just say I was learning from the make-up artists that worked our runways?"

She opened up her eyes to glare at him. "So, in theory, I could end up looking like a glittery bird. Have you seen what our girls wear on the runway?"

"Close your eyes, Nathalie, and trust me," he smiled.

She complied. It's not like she could tear off the dress, and if she looked ridiculous he could only blame himself. It's not like she would have something to lose. Pride was a luxury she couldn't afford when working with the most infuriating man in Europe.

She felt him carve the depth of her left eye with a soft brush.

"Open your eyes for a second," he ordered, tilting her head side to side.

Nathalie swallowed at their proximity, clasping her hands together tightly over her lap.

"Have you always been this way?" she murmured, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck rise with every touch.

"Close them and please stop fidgeting, it's distracting."

Nathalie took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. She felt him move closer to her face, feeling his hands brush over her cheekbones. He pressed a soft brush from the pocket between her eye and the brow bone. He repeated the same motion on the other side. She then felt his finger trace upward towards the brow bone and a small finger tap at the corner of her eye.

"You need new makeup, the fallout of these shadows are ridiculous. Not to mention, I haven't seen some of these colors since the nineties," he said softly. She could hear the mirth in his tone.

"I am sorry that my palette isn't to your taste, sir," she whispered back.

"Honestly, I'm just thrilled you had the sense to wear contacts," he muttered.

"I almost didn't because I knew it would bug you," she hissed, her eyes still closed.

"I am going to apply eyeliner," he said softly while curling her lashes. "Do not move. Your eyes must remain shut because this is a liquid liner. If it dries funny, we will have to start all over." She felt him bend toward her, his jacket brushed her arm as he softly said against her ear, "And I know how much you hate being late."

She fought the urge to shiver. She felt stupid letting him get to her. This was beyond dangerous but she would be lying if she said she wasn't enjoying every bit of it. This was her fault, to begin with. She could have simply foregone the gala. He wouldn't have fired her over it. That much she knew. Nathalie felt that she too had a dramatic flair that made her life complicated. She then felt his hand cradle the back of her head, pulling her close to him.

"You do realize I can manage my own eyeliner?" she said quickly, eye snapped open.

"I've seen your eyeliner; you can't get a straight line without rubbing your eyelid raw because you have to wait for the liquid liner to dry. By having me apply it, and the rest of your makeup, we are cutting down time. Any other questions, concerns, comments or rebuttals? We're running out of time," he challenged.

They glared at each other for another moment until Nathalie gave into his demands.

As soon as she closed her eyes, she felt the cool sensation of a tiny brush at the inner corner of her eyelid. She felt the heel of his hand stroke her lips as he dragged the brush across agonizingly slow. She could feel the slight tremor in his hands as he worked the small brush over; the coolness of the liner clashing with the flush of her cheeks. She gripped the bathroom counter as he worked, her knees squeezing together tightly.

"I know this feels uncomfortable but bear with me. Just remember, you are not to open your eyes until I tell you to," he exhaled.

She felt him move to the other eye. She held her breath as she felt his on her cheek. The brush stroked her lash line only to flick up at the edge.

"You already added foundation and powder I see," he intoned.

"Yes, that I could manage," she muttered

"But no contouring," he lamented. "Suck in your cheeks." She felt him use a brush to powder the sides of her cheeks, under her jaw and a brief dip at her chest. She felt her heart rate shoot up as the compact snapped shut.

"I'm sorry! I should have warned you," he said alarmed. "But thank you for not opening your eyes."

"I do not wish to be any later than we already are," she said calmly knowing her flush probably gave her away.

"We still have time," he mused. She heard him dig around her drawer snapping open more compacts

"You don't have a highlighter but this shadow will do," she heard him murmur. She felt the heat of his presence fill her personal space, again. His breath was only inches from her mouth as he dabbed her cheekbone gently with his fingers. She felt every nerve on her body focus to where his fingertips touched. She felt him tap at her cupids bow and up her nose. She heard him fiddle with a brush.

"I should have warned you before, but I will apply highlighter to your breasts. I'm sorry for the previous intrusion," he muttered.

She did her best to relax but felt frozen to her seat. She felt the soft brush touch her breast, her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. She wasn't sure if she was thrilled for the deep dip of her neckline or mad at herself for entertaining any of this.

"Open your mouth," he ordered.

She swallowed and she felt his fingers curl around her chin. She felt the lip liner trace her lips for what felt like an eternity before he stopped. She heard him open up a tube of lipstick. She felt the waxy cosmetic move slowly over her top lip catching every arch, dipping into the corner of her lip. While on her bottom lip, he applying enough pressure that she felt her lip move back into place once he finished. She then felt his nail tracing the bottom line of her lip.

"Blend it," he said. "You can open your eyes."

She slowly opened her eyes to see him cleaning up the mess he made in her bathroom. She got off the bathroom counter. He handed her lip gloss.

"I trust you can apply that yourself," he smirked. She huffed turning toward the mirror only pausing to admire his handy work. The eye makeup made her eyes pop, every gold accents seemed to compliment the black velvet dress. She quickly applied it and closed the tube with a snap.

"Perfect," she heard him breathe behind her. Their eyes met once more in the mirror.

"We're going to be late," she reminded him. Or herself. She didn't know who at this point because neither of them moved. She looked away first trying to gather her thoughts. One drunken escapade was enough. She couldn't do this again, at least not sober. She wouldn't have an excuse.

"What about my shoes?" she demanded, marching out of the bathroom.

"I picked them out and placed them in front of the closet," he frowned.

She focused in strapping on the heels, doing everything to ignore his gaze.

"My clutch?"

"It's in the living room," he murmured. He watched her fish for her keys. "Nathalie."

"Call Gorilla and let him know we are ready," she sighed.

"Nathalie," he said standing in her bedroom doorway. "We need to talk."

Nathalie whipped around to face her boss. "We already discussed this, Gabriel. It's best to leave it alone. It happened once. We had one too many mimosas. It ends there."

"This isn't just about that one time."

She felt her cheeks heat up at the reminder of all the stolen touches at work. Light and innocent touches that stole her breath away each and every time. His hands always found their way to touch her, and she relished it. They had kissed twice since the mimosa incident. Both of those kisses were laced with alcohol, she made sure of it.

"Gabriel, what more is left to say?" she sighed. "Can we just leave and try to get to the gala?"

"Not when we have something to discuss," he insisted, folding his arms.

Nathalie dropped her clutch and slumped into her armchair. She crossed her legs and looked up at her boss. "I'm all ears. What else is left to discuss?"

"You love me," he stated nonchalantly.

She nodded, acknowledging his statement. "And?"

"And?" He looked at her incredulously. "Don't you think we should talk about this? I mean it's nearly been a year since the incident and I don't think either one of us wants to stop. I have made my feelings quite clear."

"Yes, thank you for that, but I do not wish to do this with you," she said measuring her words.

Gabriel's frown deepened. "I don't understand."

"Gabriel, you are my boss," she said slowly.

"I am more than that at this point, don't you think," he huffed.

"That doesn't matter," she deadpanned.

"Having sex matters," he pointed out. "Claiming it's a one-night stand and still see each other matters."

"I let you buy me one coffee – "

"The crazy thing is Nathalie, is I don't know what you are scared of," he snapped. She froze.

"What are you scared of?! It's not like any of my baggage is new to you. Sadly, it wasn't until recently I realized that we have feelings for one another. Tell me what is driving you away," he barked raking his hands through his hair.

"Job stability? Professionalism? The fact that we would have to explain to the masses that I took your wife's place?" she said feeling anger bubble out of her.

"She is dead to the world," he deadpanned folding his arms.

"And what is the off chance that she is to come back?" she said raising her voice.

"She won't and even if she would, it doesn't even matter to me at this point. The marriage was terminated after the second year of her disappearance. She was legally declared dead. I have a certificate to prove it," he said batting her words away. He froze, realization hitting him. "Is that why you were against the dress?"

"No. I am against you dragging me into your life without my input," she lashed out.

"What?" he bemused.

"Look, there are already rumors about us in the tabloids and the last thing I need is another scandal to clean up that says I stole your heart while you were crippled with the loss of your wife!"

His eyebrows shot up. "Is that what you think? Have you seen me dress Adrien for a formal event?"

"I am not your son nor your wife." She enunciated.

"You are my assistant who I had a one-night stand with. God forbid I want you to look good at a formal event. Not just because I want to show you off but also because my assistant represents my company. I wouldn't like for you to wear that fuchsia nightmare regardless of what label you choose to redeem."

She felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Can we just call Gorilla and leave?"

He stood glaring at her. "Fine, you can call him. I'm getting something to drink."

She fished around for her phone with no avail.

"Gabriel, have you seen my phone," she asked standing walking towards the kitchen. She watched him put a glass of water down on the counter.

"Have you checked the bedroom?"

She walked into the bedroom and found it on her nightstand charging. She felt her lips press together when she saw Gabriel's reflection on the mirror.

"This is dangerous," she said clearing her throat.

"You say that after you undressed in front of me," he smiled.

"Shut up," she muttered catching his eyes in the reflection.

"Make me," he murmured his fingertips grazing her arms. Her smile faltered as challenge hung in the air.

"If we do this. There is no going back," she warned. She watched him grin. "I'm serious, we do this on my terms."

"I understand," he exhaled. She felt her hair rise as he nuzzled her cheek.

"I don't think we will make it to the gala," he said softly into her ear.

She turned to him frowning. "You did not destroy my dress for us to miss the gala."

"You said you weren't fond of it," he said bending towards her his breath inches away from her mouth.

She wrapped her arms around his neck locking him into place. "I never said that."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, chuckling. He pressed his forehead into hers, eyes set with a cunning spark. Nathalie leaned into his ear.

"If you think I'm going to let you smear my make-up so we can forgo the gala, you are out of your mind," she whispered, feeling him tremble under her touch.

He pressed a kiss into her neck, "Your right," he breathed into her collarbone. "We will go, do our part and come back here."

Nathalie's lips curled into a smile, enjoy the sensation of his lips on her exposed skin. She felt his fingers dig into her hips as he pulled her close.

"We will come back here," he repeated trailing kisses up her neck. "And I will have to assist you in removing this dress."

She sighed as she felt his warm breathe brush pinna of her ear. "And you will decide," he murmured, "What tonight ensues."

She heard his phone notification go off.

"Until then, I suggest we get going," he said, leaving her personal space and taking his warmth with him.

Her eyes snapped open once more, watching a mischievous grin spread on his face. "Gabriel," she warned.

"Gorilla has such impeccable timing," he said looking up from his phone. "Don't look so mad, Nathalie. I evened the playing field. We both previewed what to look forward to tonight."

Her jaw dropped, as her cheeks flushed in indignation. She had one more card to play.

"I have a feeling you will crack before I do," she smirked.

"Is that so," he said, opening the door for her.

"Why, yes, M. Agreste, no one at these events has ever seen me in anything other than a suit. I'm expecting this evening to be quite the ego boost," she laughed.

Gabriel scowled.


End file.
